Archive for the ‘dreams’ Category

XKCD made me cry

Wednesday, November 12th, 2008

Dark Flow
The Pioneer anomaly is due to the force of my love.

This last week I had a dream about my mom. I am a little sketchy about the exacts of it, basically she was telling me that she was going to go to Europe for a month. I was happy for her plans. I was so incredibly glad to see her. When I woke I wanted to crawl back into my dream to a place where the missing her can hold off for a bit. It is the same place where I am not dreading the aspect of having the holidays come and figuring out how to have them without her there.

The next morning Christopher was telling me of his dream which was of him driving a bus and having a cat which he decided to stick on top of the bus in a straw nest he made. Then he lost the cat, which held some heightened dream significance. The dreams have merged in my head. The bus is now one of those touristy double-decker jobs and my mom is out looking for the cat for him. I hope she finds it because then even if it is only a dream mash up I can say “hey Mom this is Christopher, he is really neat, reminds me a lot of you actually” and “Christopher, this is my Mom, she is awesome.”

Junebug Flight School

Wednesday, May 21st, 2008

Last night I was lying on the couch Facebook chatting with a dancer friend and I kept hearing thump thump thump on the picture window. Ah it is Junebugs making the intermittent tapping. Years ago when Rebekah and I shared this house we had a summer of the best answering machine outgoing messages.

Here is a sample as I remember them

You have reached the Wendell Junebug Flight School. Preregistration for your junebugs is now open. If you think that these little creatures fly like they are drunken distracted fools we can help. Please leave a message.

Wendell’s own cicada symphony is performing nightly, loud enough to keep you awake these tiny bugs are working all afternoon and evening to make summer sound special. Leave a loud message so you aren’t drowned out by them.

You have reached Christine and Rebekah at 3060, if you are calling to report the first firefly sighting in town please let us also know where this was and your prize will be delivered in person whenever we figure out which free store item to give away.

Rebekah’s name is still on my voicemail prompt even though she has been gone well over a year. Today, as in right now I am going to remove it as a magic spell to get her back to Massachusetts. I need her you see.

I am thinking about that specifically to brush off this early morning. It involved a dream and waking up crying. There was a contra dance and my mom was there, I was outside and up rolled Ryan in red car with two friends (young, obnoxiously waiting for me to get out of the way so they could get off to their mid 20s hijinx without ms. boring around.) They are all drunk and manic and I am immediately happy to see Ryan and disappointed not be be able to get through the mania and connect. I invite them in, I tell Ryan he can see my mom. I get inside and I have missed her. I wake up crying and starting adding any other rejection or disappointment to my mental mix. I start to wonder what the fuck I am doing, look at the calendar and wonder is this pms? It feels like it, but is too early. So what do I need here? I think of things to mitigate ways I feel vulnerable but don’t want to take them on just yet. What I’d like is morning coffee with Rebekah, her mimicking my mom and making me laugh and cry, even her scolding me up one side and down the other for taking risks that I said I shouldn’t and then heading off to fiske pond for a dip and some sun. I picture her flight from Japan and it’s continuation right to my living room.

hope hope


Wednesday, March 26th, 2008

The other night I had a dream that I was with a bunch of friends on the side of New Salem Rd. I don’t know if we were having a roadside party or walking around but I had a feeling of general good times. Then in a cluster was an animal that was wounded somehow (hit by car?) The poor thing was quite obviously mortally injured. My friends however, were attempting to put it out of its misery by poking it with a stick you could roast marshmallows on. I think with palpable resentment “you useless fucking people” and go to get a big rock.

Yesterday my sisters and I are discussing a “what if” scenario one of the nurses and the social worker thought we may want to think about ahead of time. This is a grim possibility exactly on the tail of other information that was markedly hopeful. There has been now months of this rollercoaster. One doctor will say that mom has “not a slim but a good chance of getting off the vent” and the next day a nurse will ask my sister how long we intend to put her through this, implying that the doctors will not cease in experimenting with this or that to see if she can snap out of the myriad of post surgery complications she has. It seems that every week I am fluctuating between the imminent likelihood of losing my mom to bucking up for a long recovery for her. Of course what I want is absolutely impossible for the hospital staff to give me. That would be a clear direction of recovery or not, an immutable prognosis, a pass to get the hell off this rollercoaster of hope and dread.

So now during this discussion my father expresses his wishes that we be more inclusive of my brother in the discussions. My brother is difficult to talk with for a number of reasons. The task is like walking across an emotional minefield. My sisters both take a step back in the virtual like up of volunteering for this endeavor and look at me like I stepped forward. “Fine” I say and go to find my cell phone.

The conversation which happened about two hours later was simply awful. At the end of it I remembered my dream from the night before. Although I am completely capable of dissociating to do these stupendously nasty things, I am not feeling fabulous about it. After, I am a mess and a half.

This reminds me of the time I had to give Rebekah’s sister the Heimlich Maneuver at Fitzwillys. Marjorie was talking enthusiastically and eating. I think this was a dinner after a performance of Julius Ceaser we were all in and we were quite exuberant. Marjorie starts waving her arms and putting her hand up to her throat. It takes a few seconds for people at her end of the table to realize what she is saying. Oh Marjorie is choking, wait Marjorie is choking!! I catch a clue what it going on as Rebekah starts screaming for a waitress. “My sister is choking. My sister is CHOKING!!!.” I stand, calmly say “Rebekah! Shut up, I can do this.” I walk over to behind Marj, put my hands in the right place. My mind is hearing the instructor clearly “you need to use enough force on the diaphragm to expel the object, sometimes you will break a rib” and I pull hard. Thankfully not hard enough to get the ribs cracking. A cheese stick flies across the table, Marjorie’s color returns in seconds and she is seated and finishing her sentence like nothing happened. Chatter chatter chatter. At this point I am shaking uncontrollably and did so for an hour or more. I was inconsolable. Everyone remembers the jubilation of the cheese stick flying across the table; I only remember how ghastly it felt after. And I want to say please don’t ever make me have to do that again.

Dreams and social networks

Tuesday, June 26th, 2007

I am reading “Rant: An Oral Biography of Buster Casey” by Chuck Palahniuk. At the beginning of this book there is a lot of foreshadowing of a plague who the main character plays a Typhoid Mary role in starting. A few days ago I had a dream I was infected, going to die shortly and was in quarantine. This all was bad news in my dream but what was worse was that no one would give me my computer. In my night consciousness dying is bad but not being able to email or draw with photoshop intolerable.
The book has just took a big turn – I give it an A+ for good mind fuck I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised from the genius that gave us “fight club”

Rebekah sucked me back into MySpace, Urgh, so now I have both Facebook and that. I deleted it a few years ago because it simultaneously made me feel like and ego maniac and a snob. Writing the profile caused the first and never checking the blasted thing caused the latter. Lucky for me, Rebekah knows my password and me really well so she dolled up my profile. Maybe I will less of a snob now as well. Maybe if you will befriend me I will be way better at it.

I am not so good with these social networking venues. Maybe she will also be able to deal with the onslaught of messages like “Your profile have intersted me, so I decided to write to you. I hope I can have a chance to talk to you and know you more and more. I want also to know Plus about your culture and your country.
I hope to hear from you soon. ”
what do you say to
Am <>.I looked into your profile and i which we could meet becuase it seems we are fit to be together..”
What I really want to say is I am not fit to be with anyone who whiches we could meet.
This may be even more fun than the train wreck that is yahoo personals. I can’t stand to watch so I just changed my status to married. Will that do the trick?